Day 12: to Pahoa (and back): OK: Pahoa!

November 28, 2014

There is a great contrast between what might be called the Hawaii "brand" or image, and a lot of what we see in reality. On the one hand are bright flowers, surf, colourful dress, and healthy, bronzed visitors and natives cavorting on the beaches. On the other hand are dingy, weathered buildings, lack of good food or government services, and broken down people tottering along the streets, or loitering at corners.

Here at the Wild Ginger, we are sharing our "luxury" section under the shed roof with four people who are permanent residents. Three live behind tarped off partitions against the back wall, and one lives in a tent, under the roof. All share a washroom and an old stove and fridge. If this were not Hawaii, one would have to declare that they are in abject poverty. Actually, Hawaii or not, that is the case. This morning I snapped the two photos below, showing part of our washroom, plus what you see when you step out from it.

Wild Ginger washroom - probably not on the web site.

What you see when you leave the washroom.

As we headed out through town again today, headed west and south for Pahoa, we could note again what Hilo looks like. Here are some instances:

On the west side of Hilo - a little more upscale

Pahoa has become famous, not only in our minds, but genuinely through national media exposure. So a road like Hwy 130, the one that leads to town, is no longer just a road, but an actor in the lava drama that has been playing out. That's why I include here a photo that just shows Hwy 130.

130, like 11 from Kona, is paradoxical for its extremely heavy traffic. There is a continuous stream of cars along both. Where are they all going? Well, we can see on the map the variety of subdivisions on the Pahoa area. The drivers must surely be residential commuters, since there is no really apparent manufacturing nor much agriculture in the area.

Once we entered Pahoa, we found all peaceful. There was no evidence of the lava monster lurking just upslope, and no crowds watching for that monster either. Yes, we came to the closed Apa'a Street, monitored by the national guard. But the guardsmen seemed bored, and they had no one to rescue, or tourists to fend off (save us). Along Pahoa Village Road were the power poles that had been reinforced against lava attack. I was surprised at how strong this defence looked in person, compared to how it appeared on the TV coverage. There were also three rather than two such poles. On TV, some people who had set themselves up on lawn chairs by the road were interviewed, saying "The lava is supposed to come right between those two poles, so here we are waiting for it". So that is why I assumed only two poles were involved.

With the national guard blocking the access to the actual lava, that was all there was to see. So we pressed on past the post office, to find something like a burger. The first place we came to was the Black Rock Bar and Cafe. Some exceedingly seedy looking characters were standing outside. No matter, I swooped up to them and asked "Where is the best place for a burger or other food in this town?". They put up an animated case for this being it, denouncing the Thai place, and any other places as too expensive. We decided to take their word for it, and in we went - declining their offer to watch our bikes for us, and in this at least relying on our dependable cable lock.

At a table inside was seated Santa Claus - or at least a man with a big white beard and Santa Claus hat. He claimed, rightly or wrongly, to be Santa Claus, asserting that this is where he lives until Christmas. This fellow displayed a good knowledge of British Columbia, and generally, for the moment, appeared pretty coherent. Not quite so our waitress. She looked at me seemingly uncomprehendingly when I requested the teriyaki chicken burger for me, and the beef stew for Dodie - who at the moment was at the washroom. I think it was this last bit that threw her. The stuff came, featuring stew that was cold and fries that were really greasy. Dodie thought about getting the waitress to organize a warm up of the stew, but thought better of the effort this might involve (starting with finding her), and just ate it cold.

Now thinking about dessert, I asked Santa Claus if there was a bakery in town. Suddenly he was looking at me like the waitress had. I tried again, a b-a-k-e-r-y. He mulled this over and finally pronounced that this was a tough one. However, he did allow that he had a friend that once talked about opening a donut shop in town. Then he called over the waitress, yes THAT waitress, and put the puzzler to her. She was quite quick, denying that there was such a thing. However, both agreed I should ask the lady behind the bar, who was quite good at things like this. Instead, we fled.

Further along, we could see the town as a collection of quaint ramshackle buildings, housiing miscellaneous meditation centres, clothing, and book stores, with a 60's hippy flavour. We carried on for a bit and then turned around. "Hey", I exclaimed, for here was a partially obscured sign pointing to a bakery. Could it be true?

We followed down the side street and soon came to what turned out to be the Tin Shack Bakery, located in a -- tin shack. All around the place were lounging the people we had left behind in the 60's - bare feet, long skirts, beards, guitars. The great part, though, was that the bakery had some good stuff! This included bagels that looked pretty good, and even challah (egg bread). We got some walnut muffins that also were really good, and ate them just outside with coffee and hot chocolate from our Thermos's. Interestingly, none of the patrons seemed to notice us at all. I guess in this environment multicoloured seniors on toy bikes, with fluorescent hats do not stand out.

Heading back though town we spotted the "other" burger place. We were not in town long enough to be sure, but it seemed we hd dined at the drinkers' end of town, and missed the hippy end. We are assuming the hippy burger (and stew) would have been superior, but who knows.

We had made surprisingly good time to and from Pahoa, and so had room in the day to go to Hilo Hattie's. Hilo Hattie's has always seemed to us the number one purveyor of "Hawaiian" style shorts and dresses, usually featuring bold flowered prints. The stores are named after Clarissa Haili, a dancer and actress who later changed her name to Hilo Hattie. However, Clarissa never had anything directly to do with dress design or the stores. Rather, the retailer somehow got hold of her name. That makes it weird that her photo is prominently displayed at the entrance to the store, but I guess that's business.

However debatable the store's use of the name, there is no doubt that their stuff is iconic, and attractive. For us, Hilo Hattie stuff is like dirndls in Germany, and mostly they are made in Hawaii. So naturally we needed to scoop up a pile for the kids. We also got some "free" shell necklaces and a box of six chocolate macadamia nuts. Yumm!

One of the many subdivisions in this area. Had the lava not stalled, this one was in its sights.

A couple of very nice properties, along 130

These people really like fluorescent green!

The lava crossed Apa'a street some time ago, then stalled

The national guard is defending the transfer station (garbage dump) where the lava burned up the asphalt

The two poles where the lava was predicted to break through

Goats on the loose at the side of Hwy 11

Hilo Hattie's picture in use at Hilo Hattie's

Like dirndls in Germany/Austria, these dresses symbolize this place

Postscript: Although unremarkable by most standards, including our own, 65 km for today - including over 500 feet of climb - is excellent, given the state of Dodie's knees. It gives us some confidence that the rest of the ride (especially up the Hamakua Coast) will be ok. Our next two days of riding locally will be shorter, and restful, then we will go for it.

p.s. As I write this (at 7:30 local time) the rain is absolutely pounding off the roof. Boy, have we ever been glad to not be out in the tent on any of our days on this side of the island!

Flash, May 4, 2018. We are in the South of France, but still watching Pahoa from afar. Kiluaea has erupted again, and 1700 people have been evacuated from Leilani estates. That right at the highway 130, 132, 137 triangle we so enjoyed cycling.

Today's ride: 65 km (40 miles)
Total: 358 km (222 miles)

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